


Whumptober 2020│Dick Grayson Edition

by VinsuTheWriter



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Damian Wayne is Robin, Dick Grayson is Damian Wayne’s Parent, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Hurt Damian Wayne, Hurt Dick Grayson, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Random & Short, Tim Drake is Red Robin, Whumptober 2020, i knOW IM LATE, shuttup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:13:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 16
Words: 18,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26989570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VinsuTheWriter/pseuds/VinsuTheWriter
Summary: Whumptober to practice my writing skills, all Dick Grayson oriented
Comments: 8
Kudos: 129
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Dick gets captured and he isn't happy about it.
> 
> No. 1 LET'S HANG OUT SOMETIME  
> Waking up Restrained│Shackled│Hanging

Most think being a vigilante is all victory and glory -and while punching super-villains in the face after a hard fight is satisfying- it doesn't look all that shiny and cool when you get into the grit of it all.

Nightwing cursed all lords above when he was downed by some Bludhaven criminals, having been overwhelmed with the sheer amount of them that had decided to gang up on him, he clicked something on his glove before being shaved to the ground. While the vigilante usually laughs in the face of danger, it doesn't seem so amusing when he gets pistol whipped into unconsciousness. 

Yeah, not so satisfying.

___________________

Hurt, that was the first thing that registered in his mind. 

Pressure on his wrists ended up being what hurt the most, his breathing felt brittle and his form was limp. He felt the effects of gravity while also not touching anything with his feet. Well, he's hanging then.

Nightwing's lids felt so heavy to the point that he just wants to let go and sink back into sleep, embracing the darkness and the nightmares that he knew would come with it. His breathing felt brittle, every heave of his chest needing to be done with the might of Hercules. He braces himself and tries to force his eyes open with no success.

Another shaky gasp, feeling his weight strain his wrists even further. "Wakey wakey Nightwing." A raspy voice taunted, for the life of him if it weren't for just waking up he would think he just pulled 7 all-nighters with just Tim's company and nightmares. A sharp weapon prodded at his chest momentarily before slipping away. 

He couldn't feel what the thing was but it was probably a dagger. Suddenly, a bucket of cold ass water was dumped on him, Nightwing bucked, his muscles seizing up from the adrenaline rush that washed over him and his eyes flew open. He thanks Bruce for the cold resistance training he had been submitted to since so young or else he would be shaking from the icy air and damp clothing. He glares at the group of seven men, all of them wore smirks.

"Finally, he wakes up." One of them, flamboyant and dressed to the niles walked up to him and touched his face. Nightwing jerks away from the man's palm, look, he was a touchy person and extremely dazzling on occasions but even he can see that this is a bit too far. 

He winces at the pain that runs through his body like lightning at the flinch, making his hanging body sway like a swing in a park. He almost grunts at the way it makes his wrist scrape against the metal. He looks up and sees he's in chains. Fucking whoopee. 

"Look, I'm a people person so instead of doing whatever you want to do, why don't we just hang out here?" Nightwing asks, throwing in the pun for extra flavour and a weak jibe at a joke. The guys didn't seem amused. 

"No can do, pretty boy. Y'see, we're getting paid for this." The flamboyant one -which he was gonna call Jules- explained. His brain tunneled in on the thought, who would pay for him to be captured like this? It distracted him from the throbbing and screams of agony that his body was giving him.

"Who?" He asks, genuinely curious. The group looks at each other, seemingly asking themselves that same question. "Alright, since you don't even know your employer, how much?" The same deadpanned faces looked back at him. "I'm embarrassed I was caught by you. Nobody will ever know this happened after I kick your asses." 

Jules glared at him and the others seemed offended by this. The glamorous man plucked up a baseball bat -vaguely reminding him of Harley Quinn- and hit him straight across the face with it. "Nobody insults my boys, ever." Nightwing spit out a mouthful of blood and smiled at them toothily, revealing his once shiny white pearls now glossed over in red. 

"I can do this all day."

'I shouldn't have said that.' He thought as he was struck into blackness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No. 2 IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY  
> "Pick Who Dies"│Collars│Kidnapped
> 
> No. 3 MY WAY OR THE HIGHWAY  
> Manhandled│Forced To Their Knees│Held At Gunpoint
> 
> Double whammy cause I need to hurry up.

Nightwing hated Deathstroke, that was a universally accepted fact. However, he knew that the man loved to outdo himself each time, raising the stakes each time they clash like two knives hitting against each other. 

This time though, it takes the cake.

It had been a normal patrol night, rounding up random criminals to be dropped off into jail and checking up on ongoing cases that he had. It had all been interrupted when his eyes landed on the black and orange suit of the Deathstroke uniform. His eyes narrowed at Slade Wilson but didn't spring to make the first move because if the man wanted a fight he would've already initiated it by now. 

Nightwing also hated that he knew Deathstroke so well as to know his behaviors. 

The silence between them was thick and heavy, Nightwing turned his back on the mercenary and even if he knew Bruce would be yelling at him for how stupid that move is he didn't feel worried. He knew Slade wouldn't hurt him.

His gaze lands on the city, his city. The bright lights shone brightly against his vision and if weren't for the long time he had been doing this he would've winced at the harsh glare. "What do you want Slade?" Nightwing broke the silence, the cold air biting at what little skin was exposed to the elements. 

He heard the mercenary's heavy footsteps towards him only to come stand next to him, also looking down at the city. 

Neither of them made a move.

"Meet me down by Stark Avenue, the address is 364 Boulevard lane, 2 o'clock sharp." Deathstroke spoke, Nightwing knew it was an order. He looks at him with the corner of his eye but doesn't object to it. His internal clock told him it was nearing eleven. 

Deathstroke walked away.

_____________________

Nightwing started to make his way to the address by 1:30 until a sudden call from Batman stopped him in his tracks. "What is it Batman?" He asked, noticing he was on the common line where everyone was listening, he grapples onto the next building. "Nighwing, are you in a safe position?" The dark knight questioned which stuttered his momentum and made him have to front flip to not fall between buildings. 

"Yeah, what's the news?" He waited with baited breath, knowing that it was going to be bad news -after him not telling him about Jason its an unspoken rule he be informed lest a fight break out. "Robin and Red Hood are missing." Red Robin replied, he hears typing coming from his part of the conversation. "We've been looking everywhere for the past day and haven't even found breadcrumbs." 

"What?!" Nightwing exclaims into the comm, not even caring about how loud he was being. "And nobody decided to tell me? I would've gone there immediately!" He sighs angrily, cursing Batman under his breath. "I'll head over after I finish patrol over here." He declared in the most frustrated voice he could muster at the moment, exasperation and eternal exhaustion over this being a common occurrence gripping him to his very bones.

He turned off his comm and stormed over to the address. He did a tuple flip to land on the roof like the showman he is. "Well, I'm here Slade, what do you want?" He yelled out to the mercenary, Deathstroke turns and launches towards him, he takes out his escrima sticks in preparation only to have the man sling past him.

Nightwing sighs and lets the man guide him on a wild goose-chase, knowing that if he didn't they'd either battle to near death or he'd be knocked out and taken anyway, not only that but his insatiable curiosity over the villain's surprise kept him anticipating and he'd be damned if he let him without knowing. "You could've just asked." He retorted loudly. "But would it have been as entertaining Robin?" The enhanced commented, a smirk donned Nightwing's face and he took that as motivation, chasing him into a building.

The moment he entered the dirty warehouse all of his curiosity withered like his cooking. 

"Robin, Red Hood!" He called out, they looked to be in bad shape, Robin had a bad cut on his cheek along with multiple slits in his uniform that leaked blood and a couple bruises that were hidden underneath the clothing. Red Hood had a big purple bruise on his forehead and just as many cuts and blemishes as the fourth Robin. 

"Nightwing!" Robin called back, Red Hood didn't respond, judging by his slumped form he can guess he's knocked out. Nightwing takes off towards them only to be grabbed by the hair making him swear. He's slammed into the floor and he glares at Deathstroke whom seemed to be amused. "Cute reunion Robin, but it'll take a bit more to get them back." A gun is taken out. "Now kneel." 

Nightwing looks over at his little brothers, not knowing the full extent of their injuries was not helping the situation. He struggled to get his breath back after being smashed straight on concrete. Slade seemed to realize this and smirk, yanking him up with what he knew was a smile on his face. He opened his mouth to retort something onto to be pistol whipped in the face -what is it with people hitting him with their guns. "What do you want now?"

"It is not what I want, its what you want, Robin." Nightwing raises an eyebrow at this, before he could comment on this Slade started talking again. "Remember back when you were a Teen Titan, when you had to work for me to save your pathetic little friends?" 

"Well, as an anniversary gift, both Robin and Red Hood have collars, bomb collars, strapped to their necks. If I press this little button." The villain holds up a remote. "They will be electrocuted with 150,000 volts of electricity. We both know that the average human can only hold up to 50 thousand and those who are trained up to 70 thousand. However, I do know about both of their dips in the pit which made me go safe on the voltage." 

"You're crazy." He stated, staring straight at the gun pointed at his head. His gut churns in worry, hsi eyes flickering to Robin and RH, the elder of the two had started to stir. Nightwing goes to set off his tracker only for Deathstroke to click off the safety on the handgun. "I know what you're about to do little bird, you I have danced around each other for so long we can predict each other. You know I won't kill you but you know I am perfectly capable of killing them." 

Nightwing takes a deep breath to gather his thoughts. "That still doesn't explain what you want." He points out calmly, taking care to even his breathing and any indication of fear from his body, he knows it wouldn't work against Deathstroke but he wants to reassure Robin as much as possible. 

"Simple, you join me or you have to pick who dies." 

"No!" Robin yells, the gun turns on him, Nightwing looks at him and practically begs with his eyes to not do anything, shaking his head minutely. The boy glares at the merc instead, not bothering to struggle against his bonds.

Silence, thicker and heavier than he's ever felt it and for once he doesn't feel inclined to break it. He knows what he's going to chose already and it seems everyone else does as well. He looks at Red Hood, who had finally woken up but seemed to be lucid and mumbling things under his breath, struggling against the ropes. Nightwing would've gone to soothe him if it weren't for the mercenary's words.

They didn't need to say anything, he turned his gaze back to Deathstroke and the merc seems amused. He makes a gesture and Dick stands, knowing that any small quip could cost his brothers their lives. "Turn the tracer on and leave it." Slade orders.

He plucks the tracker out of the small compartment it's hidden inside of in his glove. Robin shakes his head intently. He turns it on, it starts flashing a light blue. With one last glance at Damian he gives a small smile that he hopes was comforting.

He follows orders.

He leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is only part i of this oneshot but first I need to do No. 4 RUNNING OUT OF TIME which is going to be a Jason oneshot -for once but only cause it fits so well-


	3. Jason Todd Special Chapter!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No. 4 RUNNING OUT OF TIME  
> Caged│Buried Alive│Collapsed Building 
> 
> Jason Todd one-shot special!

He should have listened, he should have listened, he should have listened, heshouldhavelistenedheshouldhavelistenedtoBruce-

Another cackle from the madman above him interrupted him from his thoughts, he looks up, one eye uncovered and the other covered with what was left of the shreds. Joker hit him with a crowbar in the stomach and if it weren't for his resolve he would've howled in pain. "Wow, that looked like it really hurt!" 

The clown's smile made the rage in Jason's veins sing, when he gets out of here he's gonna beat this guy bloody. He grunts when a crowbar landed on his side, bent part down,suddenly it was harder to breathe, his body screaming in misery. Joker seemed to be entertained with beating a fucking teenager to death. 

"Whoa, now, hang on. That looked like it hurt a lot more. So let's try and clear this up, okay, pumpkin?" Joker teased. "What hurts more? Forehand?" The weapon hit him right side up, no harsh edges digging into his skin and while he still moaned in pain it was nothing compared to- "Or backhand?" 

He saw stars, white hot pain made tears spring to his eyes but he didn't let them go, instead he grit his teeth, glaring at the Joker with all of his being. The maniac cackled louder, his laugh piercing Jason's ears and echoing through his head like a maddening VHS recording. He swore underneath his breath between groans of pain.

The clown seemed to realize how low of a volume he was letting out his pained moans and crouched down next to him." A little louder lamb chop.I think that your lungs-" Jason's hearing was wiped out for a couple of seconds -minutes, he couldn't even tell. "That the oratory-" Fucking hell, did this psycho ever shut up?

Jason gathered all the blood he could in his mouth and spat it in the Joker's face, smirking at his small victory when he saw the displeasure that showed on his face until the monster of a man grabbed the crowbar again. 

"Now, that was rude, at least the first boy wonder had some manners." The first boy wonder, could he go one day without being compared to fucking Dick Grayson? He hates him, he hates him hehateshimhehateshim he wants his big brother to save him, please damn it, save me.

As much as he claims to hate the first Robin he would give a fucking arm and a leg for him to crash through the door, beat up the Joker and hold him in his arms to get to safety right now.

"I'm going to have to teach you a lesson so you can follow in his footsteps." Another hard hit. "No, I'm just gonna keep hitting you with this crowbar." One swing which became three ten more than he could count in his delusion and pain riddled head. "Where is the detective?" 

_____________________

The next thing he knows, he's alone in the room, the cackling of the fucking clown echoing in his head. He shimmies to the door and tries the door only to find it was locked, he sits against the door only to hear a rhythmic ticking noise.

He glances and sees a clock connected to what seemed like millions of dynamite and he prays to every fucking deity he can, he's just fucking 15 please, please.

He wants Batman, please, the man who adopted him and took him in and gave him a purpose, please bust in and save him from his hell, he wants his big brother to be able to give him ice cream after this is all over and he's in the process of healing and hear his stupid cackle while he lightly scolds him on going after the Joker by himself.

6

They're not coming. 

5

He's going to die.

4

Bye fucking cruel world, had a terrible run.

3

Bye Alfred

2

Bye Dick

1

Bye dad


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No. 6 PLEASE....  
> "Get It Out"│"No more"│"Stop, Please"
> 
> No. 7 I'VE GOT YOU  
> Support│Carrying│Enemy To Caretaker
> 
> No. 8 WHERE DID EVERYBODY GO?  
> "Don't Say Goodbye"│Abandoned│Isolation
> 
> No. 10 THEY LOOK SO PRETTY WHEN THEY BLEED  
> Blood Loss│Internal Bleeding│Trail of Blood
> 
> No. 14 IS SOMETHING BURNING?  
> Branding│Heat Exhaustion│Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PART 2 for Deathstroke oneshot -cause he's an interesting villain-

"Again." Deathstroke ordered, Richard readied his two pistols again, narrowing his eyes at the wooden dummy. He ran towards the mannequin before doing a front flip, curving his lower body to be able to kick two blocks that were deliberately placed there and shooting the target in the chest.

Slade didn't seem satisfied, instead angered by the flashy display. "How many times do I have to tell you? Go for the head." He instructed yet again. "Or your little brothers get it." He takes out the small remote, the vigilante glares at the merc but obeys, readying himself once more to repeat the move.

Breathe in, breathe out, run. He does it again. Deathstroke still doesn't look satisfied. "Again." It feels like a blur, repeating the same move again and again and again until he lost count and then some more. That was until his bullets ran out, he could feel the anger emanating from the mercenary. "Looks like you never learn!"

Footsteps lead towards him and he tenses in anticipation then the first hit is swung. A fist to the stomach, a kick to the face, a bullet to the thigh. The katana on Slade's back was suddenly in his hand then in his stomach. Dick screamed in pain, feeling the river of red pour out of his wound and ooze onto the rest of his body. His instincts pushed him to put pressure on the wound only for his weak hand to be ripped from his body and held in a bone breaking grip.

Suddenly his body lurched and his arm felt like it was going to be pulled out of his socket. He cried out, feeling friction underneath his body only to be slicked with his own blood, he could see the trail it formed on the floor. He felt too much, too many things, the pain all throughout his body -especially his stomach area- the warm but crushing grip on his hand and now forearm the warm and chilled liquid that pooled around him and the crisp, dried crimson that flaked off his body and made it all that harder to move.

Another slit, more blood and more tears. He could only catch the last part of Deathstroke's sentence. "-then you're going in the dark room." Dick writhed with vigor at these words, nearly choking on his own tears and blood. "Please, please, please. No!" 

Richard hissed as arms tucked underneath his body and heaved him up like no tomorrow, drawing out a silent scream from his throat at the rough handling that he swore put him in shock. "Don't expect comfort, Renegade." Making contact with the floor again made him howl in pain, screams echoing through the small room, light filtered in through the doorway and he could make out Deathstroke's figure. "F-fuck you, asshole." 

The door shut and the only thing he could do was curl up in the darkness and cry.

_______________________

It felt like forever when the door finally opened again, long after his whimpers had fallen quiet and the only other thing he could use besides waste precious water was use what was left of his black and orange uniform that he could feel to use as bandages to patch up his wound. He curled his body around his stomach and hissed at the bright light that attacked his eyes after being in the darkness for so long. 

He felt like a fucking animal, but at this point it was better than death. He would have jumped into Slade's arms for warmth and comfort if it weren't for the fact that he knew how horrible this man was -and experienced it firsthand.

"Get up." The merc ordered. "How the fuck? You stabbed my stomach, Niagra Falls will start again if I even tried. Blame yourself." The mercenary had no qualms with picking him up again but instead of throwing him on the floor like a sack of potatoes he walked out fo the room with him in his arms. Dick didn't have the energy to fight back or retort, instead protect his fatal wound as much as he could while in such a vulnerable position.

The villain kicked open a door and shuffled them both inside, the room contained a metal slab, a window that overlooked the garden and miles upon miles of trees around -which made his stomach drop even deeper in dread. There was also a dresser that had a comb lying on the top and two doors, one which he assumed was a closet and the other a bathroom. "What are we doing here?" 

"Quiet, apprentice." Deathstroke hushed him and for once he complied, not willing for another eternity stuck in that dark room or for another river of crimson to pour out of his already weak body. Slade gingerly let him down onto the bed and walked into another room, before Dick could even get up to investigate the area the man was back with a first aid kit. 

It took a while to stitch him up but the second Deathstroke left was the moment he fell into a restless sleep.

__________________

The next time he opened his eyes, he was in a completely different room. His hands were chained behind his back and his shirt was stripped off. His pants also seemed to have been changed into another set. He looks around silently, observing the new playing field. Quickly, he saw his captor sitting in the corner of the room, a laptop and a cup of coffee in his hands. 

"I see that you're awake." 

He didn't bother with a response.

"Not in a talking mood? I figured." The merc's finger tapped against the porcelain mug. "Your little brats got the collars off a few hours ago, I'm impressed." Hope sparked in his chest. "However, I doubt they'll find you for a very long while."

"They'll come sooner than you think and they won't show mercy." Dick replied confidently. The man takes off his helmet and places it on a coffee table just beside him. He doesn't seem bothered by the assumption Richard makes about his ragtag family, instead he seems confident. Then he speaks. "Maybe, but to be frank, by the time they come for you you'll be so utterly destroyed nobody would want you anymore except for me. You know what, to celebrate your small revelation, why don't we do something special?"

Deathstroke takes the laptop off his lap and places his coffee on the table, standing up and storming off to the next room over, giving Dick a chance to observe. The room was very bland, to the point of the seat and coffee table being the only things in there except for a lamp. Footsteps alert him of the mercenary's presence and he turns to see a camera and a stand in the villain's hands.

He comes forward and sets it up in front of Dick and his stomach drops even further than before. He connects the computer to the camera and types something for a couple minutes which Dick used to brace himself for anything that was about to happen, his body still hurt but by this point the fear and adrenaline fueled him to ignore it. 

The camera started flashing red and Slade smirked, plucking his helmet off the coffee table and placing it to mask his face once more. He flicked a switch that revealed a fireplace beside Dick which he assumed was more for aesthetic.

Deathstroke walked in front of the camera with his arms behind his back, his ass almost straight up in his face -rude. "Welcome Batman and company, I know this isn't my usual recipe for dealing with these trades, however, today you'll want to see this." You could hear the smirk in his fucking voice -or maybe that was just him. 

"What do you want, Slade." Batman's voice filtered in and Dick visibly relaxed in relief, even if it is his voice, it was nice to hear him -no matter how many times he fucked him over. "I want nothing but a reaction, I'm not much of a showman but I saw that Robin and Red Hood had both escaped from my collars." He stepped aside to reveal Dick who only stared at his family. They were all huddled up to watch, seeing Red Hood with bandages on his head and Robin having a cast on his arm along with other bandages and stuff but enough to make him sigh with relief.

That was until Slade grabbed his face.

Cries of protest rung through his ears while Deathstroke squeezed his jaw painfully. "I'm impressed, but not happy." Richard cut his chin, wrestling his face from the merc's grip. "To show you, I have something planned for you all." His eyes were locked onto the mercenary as he traveled over to the fireplace, plucking a metal rod with something at the end. His eyes narrow to see what it is only to find that it was a curved wire that formed a DS symbol that was signature to the villain.

His hopes plummeted further than fucking rock bottom. 

Deathstroke calmly held the wire over the fire, ignoring the shouts and yells coming from the computer and his family. Dick's breathing deepened, he was not looking forward to this. "ORACLE WHERE THE FUCK IS HE?" Jason yelled at Barbara, all of them wore their masks and a few had their uniforms on. 

He didn't hear the reply. The hissing of the metal echoing through his veins, he swallowed hard. "Little Renegade is going to have a new scar. You know why?" Deathstroke pulled it away from the fire, rounding Dick's still and fearful frame and then placing a foot on his back, pushing him down and for his cheek to make contact with the ground.

He writhed as much as he could, fighting and tugging for his life until something hot hovered over his back. "Because you're mine." Heat and white hot pure pain between his shoulders made him almost black out. He squirmed and wriggled as much as he could, yelling and fucking screaming because goddamn and the madman only pushed it harder against his bare back. 

The darkness wasn't quick to greet him but at least he blacked out looking at his family.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No. 5 WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING?  
> On The Run│Failed Escape│Rescue
> 
> No. 9 FOR THE GREATER GOOD  
> "Take Me Instead"│"Run!"│Ritual Sacrifice
> 
> No. 13 BREATHE IN BREATHE OUT  
> Delayed Drowning│Chemical Pneumonia│Oxygen Mask

It was supposed to be a routine drug/human trafficking bust.

Everyone in this ragtag family had done this millions of times before, gather information, stakeout to learn their patterns, plan and attack. It was supposed to be a routine drug bust but it turned out way worse than that.

It had all started at the Batcave, Batman had called all of them to take down a huge ring. "We think this is a smaller part of a bigger operation that includes drugs and human trafficking. After checking the place out for the better part of a couple months its safe to go and take it down." Red Robin explained, using the batcomputer to show images of the place.

"On average this area alone has 147 guards on a daily basis, to turns things to our favour we'll need to go for the lights." He shows the plans for the base. "In the blueprints the information and the lights are both in the same place but they are the most heavily guarded area. If we were to go in guns blazing, we'd be at a disadvantage. Over here are the hostages." RR taps on the opposite side of the base.

Nightwing leaned on the rails of the cave, looking over to Red Hood and ruffling Robin's hair -who was right next to him. "Red Hood, Robin and I are going to go for the hostages. Red Robin and Nightwing will go for the lights and Intel." Bruce ordered, pulling on his cowl to become the Batman once more. 

"Tt, why can't I go with Grayson? Surely it would be more convenient for the best to stick together." Robin protested, everyone's attention turned to him and Nightwing had to bite back a wince. He looks at the child and smiles. "Cause Tim is the best hacker we have, lets be honest if Hood went with him he would be pissed cause he wouldn't be able to help the hostages." The eldest brother explained, bumping his hip into Robin's. Red Hood let out a noise of offense which he almost smirked at.

"Everyone get to the rendevouz route at 2 in the morning, before that everyone go on their usual patrol routes." Batman went over to the weapons racks and stocked up on more batarangs -hell knows how expensive those are, why he used them so freely was beyond him. "I'll get the Birds of Prey to cover for us during our time window." Red Hood informed, shuffling over to his motorcycle.

Nightwing hummed in agreement and watched as RH sped off into the night and off into Crime Alley. Red Robin seemed to be staying at the computer for a little while longer and so he looks at his baby brother again. "Wanna go out in the Bat-mobile?" 

_________________

It had been a light patrol, a few attempted muggings and running away from Batman for stealing his car. The smile he got from Robin as they watched Batman observe the car with the eye of an eagle made the scolding all worth it. Now, however they had to work. 

They all grouped up on a nearby roof, observing for the 2 am window Nightwing glanced over at the others and gives them a swift nod. Red Robin joins his side, with a hand signal from Batman they slip up and slip away into the darkness.

It wasn't very difficult to crawl into the main hub -their air vents were strangely large but hey, he wasn't complaining. Nightwing and Red Robin hastily took down the room full of goons and both of them got to hacking, it had been a while since he even had to hack into something while with the family but he strangely missed it. It had been one of his strengths until RR took over and did it for them -unless he was solo or without their help in which he did it with ease. With their combined effort they slashed through firewall after firewall speedily and got the information boom of a lifetime. 

Everything, their amount of money, their people and so much more, Nightwing backed away from the computer and crept over to the generator they had, he kneels to start. "Wing!" He hears RR cry out, he stops his task. "What?" He turns and sees that on the other side of the front door there is a shit ton of goons all armed to the teeth with guns. 

"Well, looks like they want to party!" Nightwing quipped, he turns to Red Robin. "You got the information?" He asks, taking out his escrima sticks. "Yeah, what do you take me for?" The younger replies, slipping the usb into his suit into a hidden compartment on his legs. "Think we can take 'em?" 

Before Nightwing could reply the door burst open and thugs flooded the are. They worked in tandem, performing combo moves every once in a while. The eldest remembers that he could turn off the lights with just one more swipe of a blade. He eyes everyone in the vicinity and pulls out a blade he borrowed from Robin earlier. He runs towards the untouched fusebox.

Nightwing reaches out towards it while kicking away a goon but suddenly electricity ran through his body, shocking and making his body drop like a fucking fly. The thing was booby trapped. He cries out in pain and everyone back away from him. Red Robin tries to cover for him while he tries to catch his breath but black starts creeping on the edge of his vision and he knows his body is still getting aftershocks.

"Run!" He yells at Red Robin, even with wobbly legs he tries to stand, not really succeeding but getting up enough to kneel and use his escrima sticks to fend off people from RR's backside. "Are you crazy?!" Tim yells back. "Your body wouldn't handle getting another round of this shit!" 

"Did I fucking stutter, I am your elder, you listen to what I fucking say!" 

He gets hit.

"I thought I was your equal!"

"Please. Goddamn it." Dick begs, he knows he can't keep it up for much longer. He goesw for the fusebox again, praying to every deity he knows that it isn't going to electrocute him again. Finally, the thing doesn't burst into sparks and lets him open it, he feels hands grabbing onto his back but he wrestles against them, snatching the knife from the floor where he dropped it and stabs it into the tangle of wires.

Darkness falls on the entire facility but all Dick could do was just lay down on the floor and breathe, his body protesting further use. His body tingles in the most uncomfortable way possible. 

He succumbs to the darkness.

___________________

Its fucking cold when he gets woken up.

A shiver runs down his spine as he realizes he was doused in water. His body spasmed out of his control and he struggles to keep it in check. Nightwing narrows his eyes, concentrating on the figure in front of him. "Looks like I caught one of you." Lanterns surround them, lighting up only the bottom half of the room. He hopes his family are up the rafters or something but also not because then they'd be in danger.

"Yeah, cause of a cheap trick. Come on, when did you think up of that? During nap-time?" He rebutted, not bothering to check on his restraints, he knows he will probably be able to stand, let alone run from the situation if the option was presented to him. A blow to the face has his head snapping to the side and blood spurting out from biting his cheek to not cry out. 

"You are always the most infuriating of the bunch, why couldn't I get Red Robin?" The crime boss asks, joy sparks in Nightwing's chest, he escaped -hopefully safely. "Dunno, maybe cause we're too good to get caught by you?" 

"You are right here, my hostage." 

"That's just cause you surprised me, Batman is gonna have my head after I escape." 

"Alright, I've had enough, bring the supplies." Black Mask, gestured to bring something over, Nightwing takes a deep breath before replying with a smirk. "What supplies? Are we gonna do arts and crafts? Cause I call the blue glitter!"

"CAN YOU SHUT UP?!" Black Mask screamed, taking out his gun and shooting Nightwing in the shoulder. The vigilante hisses, gritting his teeth at the bullet, he almost doubled over but with the ropes around his body it makes him stay put. 

It wasn't long until the villain's goons brought a couple of things. He focuses yet again and notices one of them being a mass of tasers and the other a large bucket filled to the brim with water. It didn't take long until his face was submerged between the depths of the container. He easily holds him breath, one minute, two, three which turns into fifteen. When oxygen seems like a luxury he gets torn out of the water.

He coughs, throwing up the water in his lungs until a wire from one of the tasers is placed upon his skin. Then he is forcibly pushed to take a dip in the water, the taser turning on and electrifying him, again and again and again comes lass of oxygen. After a particularly long session he gathers enough will to ask. "What-what do you even want? Information? You know I'll never give anything up." 

"As long as I piss off the Red Hood, I don't care." 

"Well, you done pissed me off!" He heard the semi robotic voice echo through the room. Nightwing raises an eyebrow. "I guess you succeeded." Four figures drop before him, ready for a good fight. Unfortunately, for him, Black Mask had been so egotistical he didn't set up as many men as he would've. 

It felt very satisfying for him to watch his captor be knocked out and while he would have done it himself, he was much more relieved to see that his little brother was okay.

Tim and Damian run up to him, Damian swiftly undoing the ties binding him down and taking off the taser lines that seemed to go on forever while he stared at Tim. "I think you've been hanging out too much with Batman, Wing."

"I think it was worth it." He grinned. "Everyone's safe and I'll recover in no time, what more could I possibly ask for?"

"I don't know, some self preservation?"

"Nah, that's not my style." 

"You better make it your style Grayson because next time you do something this horrid again-"

And the darkness greets him again but this time, he knows he's in good hands.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No. 11 PSYCH 101  
> Defiance│Struggling│Crying
> 
> No. 12 I THINK I'VE BROKEN SOMETHING  
> Broken Down│Broken Bones│Broken Trust
> 
> No. 19 BROKEN HEARTS  
> Grief│Mourning Loved One│Survivor's Guilt

Dick Grayson doesn't trust many people.

Sure, he makes it seem like it, making it look like he's an open book for all to read at their leisure. Nevertheless, he's always been a showman, twirling things in his hands to distract from what is happening behind the scenes and wearing more masks that cover up anything that he doesn't want to be seen.

However, he isn't the only ringmaster in his ragtag family. On the contrary their entire clan is built upon lies, how many times they have deceived each other is something only the divine knows. Its something nobody outside of their sect would never understand. How they trick each other with decks that they hold close to their chests and then continue to stand as a unit is most likely just broken people wanting company and the only way they can find it is through other broken people.

Dick is pathetic, they all are, breaking each other into pieces and then returning to each other as if it had never happened. All of the punches -Bruce beating him after Jason's death, to get his tooth while the court of owls invaded, whenever he has a bout of anger to just name a few occasions. He never leaves, never says not again. He lets the cycle happen again and again and again to the point where the abuse coming from Bruce's hands feel like his own misdeeds. 

He wants to cry, he has already. Unfortunately, there are no more tears to shed, all he can do is hold his son close to his chest whenever they are both to the bring, when nightmares and memories drown them and the only thing they can do is hold onto their anchors. The only thing he can do is brave the cold shoulder from most people and endure the fists thrown at him whenever the opportunity presents itself. 

The only thing he can do is survive. 

Damian now is one of the only people that keeps him going, he showers him with what is left of the love and affection in his bruised and beaten soul. Watching him grow from the small assassin he was when he was ten and helping him bloom -with the help of Alfred- makes all of his suffering worth it. 

Then when his light went out and Damian died by the hands of the Heretic.

His whole world went grey, nothing holding as much joy or colour as he remembered and every good emotion slipping through his fingers like rough, coarse sand. He still flipped, he still smiled, it just wasn't genuine. 

He misses Damian.

He misses his son. 

He was right fucking there, he only laid there, unconscious as Damian, his Robin fought for his life, what kind of Batman was he? He hates himself. he hates that he let it happen.

When he died by Lex Luthor, he should have been ashamed by how quickly he submitted and let himself suffocate. He wasn't, it was so liberating and so freeing to be liberated from his body and finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel that he had desired for so long.

Seeing his mother's smile again and his father's smirk after a lifetime of waiting for him and how Damian was being hugged by his mum and his hair was being ruffled by his dad just like his dad did to him and he did to Dami. He wanted to run, to go to them, and so he did, joy and elation thrumming through his body and giving him motivation, he could feel again, he could breathe again.

Sweeping Damian into his arms had never felt so good, a grin so wide it probably looked like the joker and the comforting warmth of the parental figures he had longed to see again for so many years. It was perfect.

And then he woke up in Batman's arms. 

He didn't want him, the man who had beat him so many times and made him suffer so much. He wanted his mama, he wanted his tata, he wanted Damian. Then he was beaten again into submission, he was thrust into yet another situation he never wanted to be in. But he endured it, he doesn't fucking even know why.

Maybe it was that he felt like he needed to pay for his sins, or that he shouldn't dishonor his parents and son by offing himself in one of the hotel rooms hundreds of miles away from Gotham -though the temptation was great.

When he returned and got hit again, he was numb, it didn't matter, all that mattered was that he did all the work without the happy ending, at that point it didn't matter.

The autonomy of life returned, grey and misery becoming his cycle once more without anyone there to pull him out of the water. 

That was until he had found out Damian was revived and the moment he was able to scoop him up into his arms -alive and well. No matter how angry he was that Bruce lied to him and kept this from him, how enraged he was that the man left him to fend for himself halfway across the world with his amnesia stunt, no matter how many bullets and fists pummeled his body-

It made it all worth it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No. 15 INTO THE UNKNOWN  
> Possession│Magical Healing│Science Gone Wrong

Dick was weirded out, and that was strange judging by how he fought criminals in spandex on a nightly basis with his foster parent.

It was a regular night, getting a mission from the league and going to investigate some strange warehouse close to the Santa Monica place they had checked out a while back with the whole beginner incident. That was until they had come across some scientists that had been illegally creating some machines for hell knows what. 

Robin -being the hacker of the team- had stepped up to the plate to try and shut it down while his teammates took out everyone around him. However, with their luck, everything went downhill quicker than he could say asterous. 

Robin was blasted with a ray along with his teammates in a random order, yelling as he felt himself be throw out of his plane of existence and dropped, he tumbled out of a strange wormhole like creation, crashing into a pile of files and hitting his head very hard against a wooden table.

He stands -with some difficulty- in a fighting position, scanning the entire new area where only a black haired man with blue eyes and tan skin stared back at him, he wore casual clothing, a light blue t-shirt, a towel in the crook of his neck to catch the droplets seeping out of his black locks and some black sweatpants. "Where am I?" He asks to the frozen figure. 

The ravenette seems to compose himself, standing and wringing out his hair, grumbling under his breath about never getting a break from weird magic shit. Robin raises an eyebrow, judging by the comment and the fact that this is no surprise for him either his apartment is a hot-spot for supernatural shit or the guy's crazy. "Hey, you never answered my question." 

"You're in December 2017, judging by your clothes and voice, I'm guessing you came from 1998 to 1999 during the young justice times. 13 to 14?" The man estimated, Robin was immediately suspicions, was he trapped with another version of Hugo Strange? "Before you ask, I work with Batman in this time, I know more than enough about you, Dick Grayson." 

"Alright, so, what do we do? You know my ID, but I don't know yours, a name for a name?" 

"Call me Nightwing, we don't know if you even knowing about me will affect you in the past." 

"Asterous." 

Abruptly, a ringing noise comes form the kitchen area and Nightwing goes over to respond to the call. Geez, he can hear the other person screaming from over here. While Nightwing talks to whoever is on the line he decides to snoop around, looking at the decor. A particular picture grasps his attention and he goes over to it. 

It was a collage, the first that caught his eye was of one that he recognized, Wally and him smushing their cheeks together to grin into the camera, a headphone wire wrapped around one of his shoulders and went up to tangle into the redhead's hair.

A faint fondness comes up and his heart warms at the display of affection, his face reddening at how close they were. He distantly wondered why this random man had a picture of them both but he paid no mind to the thought, the next one his eye catches is also one he recognizes, everyone on the team on the beach with their bathing suits on. It was full of after glow from a successful mission and he can feel the happiness emanating from the picture.

The third one made his heart stop. 

Tears stung to his eyes, seeing a redhead with a particular blonde in full wedding ensemble, the redhead dipping the blonde and both of their lips captured in a kiss. No matter how old he looked, he could spot Wally anywhere. A sob erupted from his throat and he gingerly took out the thumbtack and flipped it over, mentally begging that it wasn’t true. ‘Wally and Artemis’ wedding’ it had written on it with a shaky letter that he could recognize. ‘April 2017.’ 

He couldn’t breathe, sobs and wails escaping his mouth throatily, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes and his face reddening. He felt the sadness and anger tear his heart into shreds. Warm arms, Nightwing’s wrap around him and he leans into it, not caring about how he was being hugged by a total stranger. Dick looks up and sees a similar pain in Nightwing’s eyes.

“We never told him, did we.” 

“No.”

“What did it cost us?”

“Everything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come on, I had to include some kind of Birdflash eventually.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No. 20 TOTO, I HAVE A FEELING WE'RE NOT IN KANSAS ANYMORE  
> Lost│Field Medicine│Medieval

Being lost in the desert with a fucking baby was not what Agent 37 thought he would be doing with his life.

The sun beat down on his back as he held the infant in her swaddle. He was separated from the two other agents he had started this treacherous journey with a while back, a sandstorm had hit and the three of them had been torn apart from the need to get shelter and not having sight or hearing to guide them back to each other. 

Agent 37 kept on the way to the town he was told was sort of near and he hoped the other two were also en route. The grainy sand was agonizingly hot whenever it his skin and he hoped the baby didn't get too hurt with its warmth. He heard her cries but his heart fell into his stomach, he only had a bottle of formula with him since Helena carried the rest. He couldn't give her all of it at the same time, he needed to ration it for her.

Agent 37 watched on sadly as the baby girl cried in his arms, he was essentially starving her but he needed her to survive, she was the only thing keeping him going. He could only imagine Damian in this position, helpless and starving in the middle of a desert and in his arms and him only having a ration or two in his pocket. It broke his fucking heart.

With that thought, he took the bottle out and sat down as best he could with the grainy and unstable surface. He propped her up in the proper feeding position and didn't even bother checking the temperature, not willing to even waste a drop to check, it was all he had.

Agent 37 placed the nib in her mouth and she sucked on it greedily, he fed her for a bit but unfortunately was only able to give her a fifth of the large bottle before he was pulling it away from her and pocketing it again. She fussed in protest but he had no pacifier to silence her or comfort her. 

Agent 37 stood on wobbly knees and trudged on, swaying the infant in his arms to try and calm him down as best as he could. "Please, Damian, don't cry." The name slipped out of his lips by accident. The emotions hit him hard and suddenly he wasn't Agent 37 nor was he any of his previous aliases, he was just a mourning father in the middle of a desert with a child that wasn't his own and a betrayed son who had no father to guide him.

The girl's cries pulled him out of his mind, Grayson starts to sing with a wobbly but strong voice."Culca-te, puiut micut, Culca-te si te abua. Pâna mâine-n dalba ziua.Si te culca si adormi. Pâna mâine-n dalbe zori."

His throat was so dry, so raspy but he kept going, no matter how much it hurt. "Doina din ce s-o facut? Dintr-o gura de mic prunc. L-o lasat maica dormind, L-o aflat doina zicând."

"Abua – bua – bua, Abua, tucu-l maica, Nu te teme tu de zmei, I-a goni maica pe ei. Puisor cu ochi de mure, Maica-i dusa la padure. Ti-a aduce gatejoare. Si ti-a face scovergioare." It hurt to sing this to someone that wasn't his Lil'D, but he was gone and he wasn't going to fail another child. 

Agent 37 is sorry Damian.

Dick is sorry Damian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a sucker for Dick being Damian's dad, can you tell?


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No. 22 DO THESE TACOS TASTE FUNNY TO YOU?  
> Poisoned│Drugged│Withdrawal

Dick Grayson sighed in between conversations with older women and people who liked to touch more than he was comfortable with. The rolled up dress shirt, dress pants and dress shoes were things that he wanted to claw off of his body - he would keep the watch cause it looked good, even if he had no idea how to adjust it to the right time. His brothers and Cassandra had all collectively gathered up in the corner of the room and hung out while he put up the act of 'Golden Boy' as Jason had so politely put it.

Women swarmed him from all sides, all trying to get a taste of Gotham's eldest prince and while he was single at the moment, he was single, not desperate. Some of them leeched off of his arm, trying to be his arm candy even if they all knew he was the star of the show here -not even trying to be mean, it's just a fact. If it weren't for the knowledge that Bruce was in the same situation -or worse since he's the main man with all the money and shit, he's just the son. So Dick refrains from seeking him out for a breather.

Another female, a dyed redhead, crossed his path next, she held two glasses of champagne and a mischievous smirk. "Bonjour Richard." She greeted in a French accent. Dick conjured up what he remembered of his French -which he used to be so fluent in, he needs to review- "Bonjour madame, puis-je vous demander votre nom à nouveau." He spoke in rusty French. The woman seemed surprised he asked but didn't seem all that bothered by it. "Mon nom est Doreen Chastain. I taught you the basics of French at one of these galas quatorze ans back, we were both small children back then."

Dick remembered his first gala but no trace of recognition comes up in his mind, he'll give her the befit of the doubt, maybe he forgot. He was very young and it was a long time ago. A tug in his gut says otherwise but he ignores the feeling.

So Dick pretends to know what she's talking about. "Ahhh, now I remember, I apologise for my bad memory Doreen. You know, with so much going on it's difficult to keep track of of it all." He makes some gestures to exaggerate, Chastain is nonchalant at his sheepishness. "It is alright Richard, here, a peace offering." Never the one to disappoint and fail to keep up appearances he takes the champagne glass she hands him.

Doreen holds it up to make a toast. "To many more years of estranged companionship." She waits. He clinks his glass against hers and takes a sip at equal time as her. The taste is bitter, but not in the usual way, there's something funky in here. He doesn't make any physical allusion to how his gut feeling suddenly quadrupled, screaming at him to get out of there. "Well, this reunion was nice Doreen, but there is something I must take care of." He feels the effects of the drugs the drink was interlaced with and she seems to realize he knows as well.

"Well, shall I accompany you? This gala has been uneventful and we might be able to catch up after you are done." She insists, casually interlacing their arms together. He has to get away from her without making a goddamn scene. She set it all up, her looking like Dick's type, the champagne, the questionable backstory, she knew what she was doing. Dick gingerly tries to unlock their limbs and she lets it, as he turns to make a haste escape he feels her hand on his shoulder.

They both know this is going to turn ugly.

"I never knew a Doreen Chastain, did I?" He asks, the woman comes next to him and tugs his arm close again, trying to make it seem like another woman that's trying to be his arm candy. "Nope." She confirms in a British accent, a stark contrast to her French one earlier, 'Doreen' smiles at the crowd, both of them greeting everyone around while Dick thought of a way to leave. Finally, a thought occurred.

He tugs them both over to Bruce and 'Doreen' seemed to become a bit more nervous, Dick's vision became more blurry and his body felt heavier as time passed, he needed to get to Bruce now. "Hey Bruce!" He called out, he tried to keep his voice as clear and concise as possible but a tiny bit of slur came out at the end. Dick hoped it wasn't noticeable and just Bruce noticed it.

"Excuse my son, Dick, he can be such a handful sometimes." Bruce excused his behaviour. "Would you introduce me to this fine lady, chum?" He asked, he smiled, focusing on not throwing anyone off that something was wrong. "Ah, I apologize, this is Doreen Chastain, we met in one of my first galas, she taught me the first bit of french I ever learned."

"Bonjour, mosieur Bruce Wayne, pleased to make your acquaintance." 

"The pleasure is all mine." Bruce smiles, obviously seeing how out of it Dick was he took control of the situation. "Miss Chastain, how long have you and my son known each other?" He side eyes him, Dick takes this chance to take out his phone and text the first person he could find in his contacts, fuck he accidentally texted Bruce. 

The millionaire's phone buzzed and he took it out and he looked exasperated for a moment but took it in stride. "Excuse me, let me respond to this." Bruce typed quickly, sending the message and returning to conversation with 'Doreen' and the other women and men around them. 

Suddenly Tim came over and pulled on his hand. "Come on Dick, you promised we'd all watch a movie." He insisted and Dick nods, flashing a smile to the crowd -which he hoped didn't look as woozy as he felt. "Well, you know how it is, gotta entertain my little brothers. I hope to see you all again soon." His eyes lands specifically on Doreen and his face strained a little.

The woman, seemingly wanting one last taste of what she couldn't have decided to make one last huzzah. "Je vais vous voir à nouveau, Richard." She took his chin and gave him a swift kiss on the lips.

Dick held back the urge to push her back, instead ignoring the catcalls that came from the other attendees and let himself be dragged away by his second youngest brother. "Don't retaliate, let's just go." Dick told him, noticeably slurring his words at this point. Tim seemed worried but didn't comment, instead signaling the others to follow him.

Dick, didn't really feel anything about the exchange, wasn't as degrading as other times, just a bit of drugs. Clearly the others took that as a sign to be angry for him. "That witch should have never come close to the estate." Damian hissed. "There could have been an ulterior motive, he's just lucky he thought of going to father." 

"Hell, am I fucking glad he did, that could've gone south if I had been the one to get up from my chair. Seeing her drag Golden Boy around was equivalent to dragging a sleepy dog." Jason compared with an angry edge to his voice.

"Lets just be glad that he did go to Bruce who texted us, gave us a motive for it all. But her kissing Dick at the end had me so pissed." Tim explained, looking at his phone gratefully. They all chilled in the movie room with Hamilton playing in the background. 

Everyone laid under blankets as they ranted, Jason having a pistol in his hand and Damian having a dagger nearby. Dick sat straight in the middle of the couch and smiled as Cassandra cuddle up next to him. 'Dick okay?" She signed and Dick nodded, still a bit out of it. "I'm just glad Barbara wasn't here, she would've ripped that woman's face off."

A small hum of agreement came from his little sister and while not ideal circumstances, he enjoyed the small moment of fun between everyone, he wouldn't trade it for the world.

And if he received a picture from Alfred of all of them cuddled up that he hung on his fridge in Bludhaven, nobody needed to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some angst and goddamn fluff cause I read some fluffy things today and I was in the mood for it, deal with it.
> 
> Also the french woman was there cause I take french and have been very annoyed at the lack of progress so translator it is.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No. 23 WHAT'S A WHUMPEE GOTTA DO TO GET SOME SLEEP AROUND HERE?  
> Exhaustion│Narcolepsy│Sleep Deprivation
> 
> Tim Drake special!

It had been a fucking long night.

Red Robin shoved himself through his apartment window, tugging at his flowy cape that got stuck on the edge of the fire escape. The vigilante sighs, weakly clawing at the fabric, he stops, rethinking about destroying one of his vital suit pieces. Finally, with one final huff of annoyance he sluggishly unclasped his brooch and jerked his cowl back, revealing sweaty raven locks. Tim escapes the cloak and goes back onto the fire escape, yanking it free.

With no grace at all, he threw the mantle through his window and dives through. He rolls onto his shoulder and sprawls out onto the floor, panting. Tim felt like lead all over, making his chest heave to take a breath was the equivalent of having 70 pounds bound to his breast. The young adult's eyes flutter but he forces them open, with a deep breath he turns onto his side and gets up. 

His azure eyes spy a mug filled with an amber liquid, he staggers over to the kitchen counter, he grasps the mug and shoots down the caffeine like a shot. It tastes bitter on his tongue but it doesn't give him the familiar rush of energy to be able to keep on working. "Fuck, fuck fuck fuck." Tim swears.

He glances at his cape and works to disable the uniform's safety system before stripping off the tunic, presenting his scarred chest to his empty apartment. His heart sinks into his stomach, loneliness seeping into his very bones. "Wow, that's just sad." Tim murmurs, crumpling onto a nearby couch and working to free his legs from his boots. 

The clasps echo in his ears, his body feeling heavier and heavier. He strains to take off his leggings but is ultimately left in his boxers. He would've slipped into pajamas, however he still has a few cases to go over and business propositions for WE to peruse and fix. "Is it worth to sleep when I have work?" Tim asks himself. 

His head just felt empty, he felt numb he wanted to just not do anything, not even sleep. He looks at the laptop that sat at the coffee table, he strains to reach the PC however he doesn't reach. Instead of getting up and doing work or trudging to bed or hell, even picking up the clothing that littered the floor -which goes against every protocol Bruce trained into his psyche- he just lays there.

Not everyone has a fucking Alfred Pennyworth to clean up after them. 

Tim stares at the ceiling, his eyelids threatened to fall but his mind didn't want to let him sleep, he already knows what awaits him. He just wants to fall and never get up, stay at rock bottom and rot. 

He couldn't pinpoint as to when this feeling started, like a black hole came and swallowed up all of his emotions. The sensation comes since very young, the familiarity of loneliness and wanting to not place any effort into his narrative anymore. 

Its not fair, all of his family has had their dips with death, why did he seem to be the only one actively dodging its claws? He's tired, so tired of watching everyone fall around him and get up and fall again but he never gets the consequences, even if it takes his best friends with it.

He wants it all to stop, if it were anyone else they probably would've thought of retiring but most people don't know what Gotham does to you. Their entire 'family' has tried at one point to be normal but their broken mentalities all built upon the same sick and twisted justice. Throw cronies in jail fight them again tomorrow, an endless cycle that they subject themselves to, and for what? For a thank you? No.

They all have their reasons for being in the fight, for most of them, its all they've ever known for so long that if they were to leave then, he doesn't know what he'd do with his life. Red Robin is a part of him, as much as sometimes he wish it wasn't so, it influences every decision he makes. Being a vigilante, he claims is the best thing that's ever happened to him but he said it so long ago it feels like a completely different person, still partially clean. Now, he's just broken goods, they all are.

He doesn't remember when his eyes slid shut and he fell into a restless sleep, he does remember waking up an hour later, he remembers the broken sobs and wails that came from his all the while still having the full moon glare down from its perch in the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just some introspection and general depression, Tim is a good character to be able to do that with.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No. 16 A TERRIBLE, HORRIBLE, NO GOOD, VERY BAD DAY  
> Forced To Beg│Hallucinations│Shoot The Hostage
> 
> No. 18 PANIC! AT THE DISCO  
> Panic Attacks│Phobias│Paranoia

It wasn't a surprise anyone in the batfamily would take a bullet for one another -though some of them vehemently deny this claim. Their tight knit family forget by the ashes and misery of Gotham to strengthen their bonds, and as much as they fight with one another when it really counts, they're there.

However, that doesn't really work for someone like the Joker.

The Joker -how insane he is only the divine knows- is actually pretty smart, unfortunate for them. He always has an uncanny ability to be able to tell when there's going to be backup whenever he's up against the bats which has placed them in an innumerable quantity of situations that never fails to make you stressed to hell and back.

So when he was deposited in a room full of civilians, his heart dropped to his feet. Nightwing struggled against the Joker's buff goons but with the restraints it was pretty futile. He glares at the bulletproof glass separating him and the clown, sadly, all of his brothers were on the other side with the psychopath. With only Batman to be able to depend on, they have to wait for a while.

"Hello ladies!" Joker exclaimed, he kicked Red Hood who glared and clenched his muscles to try and hulk out of his bindings. "And gents. Today we're going to be playing a little game I like to call." A gun dropped out of the ceiling, a Desert Eagle 50 that glimmered menacingly in the pale light of the room. "Pop goes the Weasel!"

Nightwing tries to steady his breathing, watching as his binding unravel into strings on the floor. He would've gone for the door if it wasn't for the fact that he knew it would sentence the rest of this room to death. "The name of the game is this, Nightwing must shoot one of the civilians here so the rest of the room lives! Every ten minutes he doesn't, I shoot one of the bats, three strikes and one of them is out!"

"What?" He exclaims, his breathing stuttering in rhythm, his brain becomes a flurry of thoughts and he doesn't catch the rest of Joker's monologue, no matter how much he tries to pay attention. He can't breathe, he can't breathe.

He struggles to focus, five things he can see (his brothers, the civilians, he shouldn't have looked over there) Four things he can touch, his clothes, his chest, his mask and the floor. Three things he could hear -he can only hear the damn clown's laughter and the civilian's scared screams. Two things he can smell (blood and gunpowder, fucking hell, this is barely helping). One-

"-The timer starts, now!" That sends his slowly calming brain into another round of fisticuffs with common sense but he has civilians to worry about.

He pushes back how little air he's getting and the blurring panic to concentrate on the innocents. "Okay, first things first, calm them down." Nightwing tells himself, taking a deep breath that feels to big for his lungs.

He pushes the gun aside to the corner of the room where nobody lay and turns to the horrified audience. "Okay, everyone. I am going to tell you now, I am not shooting anyone. You are all going to leave with your lives." He glances to his brothers with the corner of his eye.

Robin seemed fine, if more than a little mad, he was still in his chains however he could see him calculating if he should get out of the restraints at that moment or if to wait. Nightwing shakes his head, it was too risky at this point, Robin sees this movement and gives a slight nod back.

Red Hood was enraged, still attempting to wrestle out of his restraints -much to his displeasure because he was wasting precious energy. His were the strongest, both due to his grudge with the Joker, the willingness to kill and his strength.

Red Robin seemed the most subdued, not making any moves to do anything and only glaring -probably because of the fact that the clown has an entire room of hostages. The entire situation was pretty shitty.

The first ten minutes went by in a flurry of panic for Nightwing and it felt all too soon when the buzzer went off. The civilians seemed to fear him, parents holding their children close and people who were alone squandering off in corners. He didn't make a move towards the pistol. 

"Well, looks like this round goes to me!" Manic laughing followed the statement. "Hmm, who will I pick to nick first? Ooh, its is all so exciting! Its like choosing a new toy!" He seemed to make a contemplative expression.

Nightwing scowled, angry at how fucking helpless he was. "Which one? Which one? The little ankle biter?" Robin didn't elicit a reaction, only stiffly glared ahead. "Nah, too angry and inexpressive." 

Joker moved onto the next bat, Red Robin. "The smart one? Hmm, maybe." Red Robin only continued to glare, his breathing deepening with anger. The psycho then arrived to the last one. "Or my favourite one? Robin number two? You know what, I'll pick you first! Congratulations!" 'I'm sorry.' Dick mouthed to his immediate younger brother.

"Fuck you." Red Hood cursed at his murderer, straining even harder only to be dragged forward by two buff goons whom left after. The camera was now poised at them. "You fucking clown, I'll beat the white off of ya no matter how many crowbars it takes-" he kept arguing until his mouth was covered by a pale hand.

"Ah, silence. You take it for granted. Now what was it I promised? Ah, yes!" A gun practically materialized in his hand. "A bullet!" A round was emptied into Jason's forearm who yelled in pain. =

"Hood!" He roared, the civilians seemed terrified at the emotion and how they just watched a man get fucking shot. He turned to the hysterical crowd."Its okay, its okay. We'll be okay." He told them, he turns to Hood and communicates with his hands, signing. 'Look, I know you're in pain but say something so the kids don't panic.'

Red Hood seems to understand and after getting himself under control for the sake of the children. "Tis but a flesh wound!" He mustered up the energy to valiantly cry out all the while gritting his teeth. Nightwing visibly relaxed, playing it up for the crowd, a few children laughed at the scene.

"Hmm, this is no fun for me anymore, how about I play up the stakes?!" Panic returned to the crowd and he couldn't lie but even the bats were sweating a bit. "In five minutes if Nightwing doesn't kill someone I kill one of the kiddies!" Joker points the gun at Red Robin. 

A gasp track blasts from hidden speakers at the revelation. Murmurs spread all throughout the crowd but one brave soul stands up, an older man that looked to be in his 90s. "Kill me." He said in a shaky voice, stepping forwards towards Nightwing. 

"I can't kill you sir." 

"The name's Arvin Rogers son." 

"Well then Arvin, I'm not going to kill you so please-"

"Don't kid me boy, we're all stuck in this situation, I can tell you're a young man. I've lived my life, served in a war, my wife is dead and my children don't visit. You and your family are irreplaceable here and non' of you should die. So, kill me." 

His shaky voice said otherwise, he was scared but completely open to this. Nightwing shakes his head with resolve, plucking up the gun and moving it away from Arvin. "Arvin, I can assure you help is on the way." 

One minute was left on the clock, Arvin didn't speak, instead he grappled Nightwing for the gun. He didn't want to hurt this civilian nor did he want Jason to die, it was a lose-lose situation. Rogers punched him in the face and he let him but kept a firm grip on the gun. It was pointed towards Nightwing.

"Give me the damn pistol." The old man swore. "Kiddie fight! You know what, for this splendid entertainment you get three more minutes!" Joker laughed, the two kept wrestling on the floor, the timer gotten up. It seemed the rest of the crowd went into bystander effect and nobody dared come closer to the gun lest they be shot in the scuffle. 

"Arvin, we can talk about this." Nightwing argued. "Theres nothing to talk about, one of us is going to die here and its going to be me!" 

The gun was pointed at Nightwing's stomach and instead of kicking him off like he could or anything of the sort he pressed the gun into his stomach, hitting his ribs hard. The gun was locked and loaded with one round in and so he touched the trigger. Arvin fought back against this but his grip was too weak. 

Nightwing pulled the trigger.

Blood splattered all over Arvin and their surroundings, shock coming over the innocent people there. "No!" Damian cried out and Jason seemed shocked. He would never let him fucking die again.

Dick felt the pain but he still smiled up at Arvin. "Its okay, Its okay." He insists, Arvin finally tugged the gun out of his grip and threw it over his shoulder, putting pressure against the wound.

"Its okay."

He felt consciousness slip away from him just as cries of joy echoed throughout the chamber. He smiled, Batman was here. And then darkness.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No. 21 I DON'T FEEL SO WELL  
> Chronic Pain│Hypothermia│Infection
> 
> No. 27 OK, WHO HAD NATURAL DISASTERS ON THEIR BINGO CARD?  
> Earthquake│Extreme Weather│Power Outage

Batman narrowed his eyes at the rubble trapping both him and Robin in the small 5x5 basement. It had small holes that let them breathe so they didn’t have to worry about oxygen because there was plenty, however the air coming in was increasingly becoming colder and colder. The basement wasn’t much, a wooden table sat in one corner while on the back wall sat a few shelves of documents, bags filled with substances, a few bottles of alcohol and a couple of handguns. 

They had gotten trapped here after they had seen the bombs that lined the old building above them and dove for the basement since anything else was too risky. While their quick thinking had saved them from being burned to two crisp vigilantes they had also known it would be probably they would’ve gotten trapped down here. However, they did not account for the storm that had been announced to hit for tomorrow to give them an early greeting nor did they plan for the storm to block any distress signal that they could send. 

Robin has already hunkered down underneath the table, prepared to brave the storm in the damn basement, Batman on the other hand was trying to analyze their situation to see if they would be able to do anything. The explosive gel they had in their belts could do the trick, yet would bear the brunt of the explosion and it might just loosen the already weak rubble to funnel in or even crush the roof in. Not an option. 

“B-Batman, how’s the plan going?” The ten year old asked, curling into his cape for warmth. The Caped Crusader didn’t have it in him to lie to his partner. “The rubble might be too loose, it’s too risky to detonate anything on it at the moment. Looks like we’ll have to wait the storm out and send out a distress signal for Batgirl.” The Dark Knight explained, Robin hummed, seeming to accept the information for what it was. 

“Well, we could try and start a fire?” The Boy Wonder suggested. “We could use the documents after checking it’s contents and taking pictures of anything important and scrap the wooden table to build a small campfire.” He pointed at the alcohol and handguns. “The alcohol could be used as a fuel and the gun could light a spark.” 

“The gun is uncertain in such a small space to be used.” Batman pointed out, Robin smirked, as if he already thought of what he was going to say. “We keep some of the wood intact to use as a shield, besides the worse it could do is give us one gunshot wound but a fire would give us better chances of getting through the storm.” 

The Caped Crusader seemed to consider this and finally sighed. “Okay.” 

The fire took a few tries to be able to light and Robin had to be the one to shoot it -he doesn’t think it would have been a good idea for Batman to hold a gun, especially with his past experience. Neither of them were harmed, even if the impromptu shield had taken the impact of a couple bullets. Robin and Batman curled up in the corner, the fire licking in front of them. To the side there were the shrapnels of wood and piles of files that had been sorted to feed to the flames when it seemed it would flicker out. 

“I ended up teaching Barbara how to do a backflip a couple of months ago, did I ever tell you about that?” Dick asked, the Bruce shook his head, feigning ignorance at the story he had been told at least ten times in the past month but it gave them a distraction from their situation. The cold still bit at them but the warmth from the blaze made it much more bearable than before which was more than they could ask for. “She ended up falling on her back for the majority of the class but just as the PE teacher was about to tell us to go and change she managed to do it, even if her landing was a little off.”

“Really?” Bruce questioned, amused at the excitement his ward had on his friend’s behalf. “Yeah, her feet didn’t settle together, she could’ve gotten hurt and landed in splits! While she is flexible she can’t do that yet and I don’t think it’d feel very good.” Dick hissed dramatically at the thought, a dramatic wince coming on his features. Bruce’s lip twitched if only slightly, he ruffled the child’s hair. “I don’t think it would-“ 

Sounds coming from above interrupted their conversation, both of them falling back into silence and just listening. Distant yells came from above, however they weren’t from a female and the footsteps they did hear were of multiple people, who the hell would be out in this storm? Well, besides them but that’s kinda their job. 

“-he boss said to drown em like fish!” One of them exclaimed, another scoffed at this, Batman and Robin scooted away from the rubble covered entrance, if it weren’t for the fact that it was their only heat source besides each other Robin would’ve stomped out the blazing fire to hide them and make them think they had escaped but the light that seeped out gave them away. Robin held his breath and Batman pulled him closer to brace them for what was about to come. 

“Fish don’t drown in water, idiot! He said to drown em like roaches! ‘Sides, birds can’t fly if they’re wet.” Another explained, a loud thump and sloshing being heard just above them. Robin realized what they were about to do and it seemed Batman did too but they had nothing to hold up their fire and them out of the water. The hypothermia that would come from getting even slightly wet and the fire being put out would doom them, there were no rafters or vents to save them either. 

“Ain’t Batman a bat?” A third voice questioned, grunting in effort to presumably hold up something. “Whatever, he- fucking hell! Watch where you drop water, you got me wet.” He complained, crunching accompanied their speech, not much conversation except for mundane things came between the three until they could see that something was blocking one of the small openings in the rubble. 

“Hope you’re thirsty, bats! On the behalf of the Penguin.” The first person taunted, it was the only warning before a small burst of water slithered down the stairs and created a small pool that only grew bigger the more they fed it. It didn’t take long to creep closer to the fire and subsequently, them. Robin turned his determined but anxious gaze to his older partner. “What do we do Batman?” He whispered.

For once, Batman seemed at a loss. 

“Try to stay as dry as possible.” The Caped Crusader finally replied lowly, Robin turned back to the fire, only able to watch in horror as the water grew and grew, swallowing the fire’s might and the light and warmth that came with it. Before the water could touch their legs or capes Batman pulled Robin up onto his feet, he was unsteady for once, heavily leaning on his mentor. The mens’ conversation up topside didn’t register to Robin until another big spurt of the cold liquid hit, he didn’t even realize it had stopped, if even for a moment. 

The water level rose, from the soles of their shoes up to underneath Robin’s knees which was a fourth of the way for Batman. He seemed to realize this and plucked Robin off of the floor, taking him into his arms and tucking both of their capes around their torsos. While Batman concentrating on holding them both up Robin looked around to see if there was anything they fucking missed but no, the entire fucking room was plain as hell now that the fire was out and the light that came from the flames squandered most of their vision. If it weren’t for his training the Boy Wonder wouldn’t have been able to see at all.

They were both shaking, their bodies trying to generate heat as much as ossicle and he could feel the cold emanating from the water below his petite body. He was not jealous of Batman, his mentor had to deal with a ten year old’s weight and the subzero degrees that crawled up his legs and reached above his knees. Robin looked up again, hoping with every inch of his body that there was something he could do. 

Out of the corner of his eye he caught the water gallon being replaced again with a fell one that emptied a steady stream into the flooded basement. He narrowed his eyes and nudged Batman underneath him who seemed to become more and more groggy. “B, why don’t we try to clog up any entryway they have into the place? It might leave us with limited oxygen but at this point you’re gonna freeze or drown or both.” 

“I-If one of us has to leave alive, it b-better be you Robin.” Batman managed to get out, as much as he tried to suppress his chattering teeth. “B-Both of us are going to leave this alive Batman.” The chill was doing its toll on both of them, he tried to press himself closer to his mentor but it barely did anything. Batman didn’t reply. 

The water was up to Batman’s chest and Robin’s body com the waist down.

There was nothing else Dick could say to make this better, they were both freezing to death, he had to conserve his energy and with the way Bruce was swaying he doubted the elder would last much longer, no matter how much willpower he possesses. “We’re all outta gallons boys.” Someone said to other people. “Eh, they’re wet enough, let’s just go and tell the boss.” Another spoke, footsteps went away from them and Dick would’ve sighed from relief if it weren’t for the circumstances.

He noticed Bruce’s eyes were fluttering shut and he mustered up the strength to slap him in the face, startling him awake. “S-s-stay awake.” Dick ordered as best he could. He would’ve cried if it weren’t for the irracional fear that his brain screamed at him that it would finish drowning them both. Tears still gathered at the corner of his eyes but he didn’t dare let them fall, he grabbed his mentor’s face with his ice cold gloves that must’ve burned at the touch.

“We-We-We’re g-going to-to get out of this.” It was starting to get harder to think, and the sentences he would form started to slip away, an uncomfortable warmth started to permeate through his body and he shifted. Bruce wouldn’t let him move a muscle, the capes were half soaked but they had to use the dry part to try and stay warm, it was his body tricking him, he was cold, but why was he feeling so impossibly hot?

He could see his breaths, his body felt heavier, he could hear Bruce’s shaky breaths that blasted against his chest. They stilled, their bodies no longer shaking like fucking maracas. They were going to die, this is it.

A loud splash echoed through the room and mumbles invaded his ears, a spray of water hit him and Bruce and he shut his eyes, waiting for the ceiling to cave in. “I’m sorry Bruce.” He whispered, holding his father’s torso tighter and he felt the same be lightly reciprocated. “I’m sorry Dick.” He replied in a low rasp. 

Something latched onto Dick’s waist and he held onto Bruce tighter, crying out in surprise. He felt whiplash as air whipped against his face, his bleary eyes try to focus on Bruce’s face and he could see him doing the same to him. Finally, his father’s eyes fluttered shut and his grip loosened which the son took as permission to do the same.

___________________________

Dick shoots out of bed, fear gripping his heart as he looks around, he’s in a bed, white with crisp wool sheets. His unfocused azure eyes looks for Bruce which he finds a bit away. “Master Dick, you’re okay.” Alfred reassured, a towel and a tray with two glasses of water -the dreaded liquid- in hand. He sets down the tray and folds the towel before turning to him. 

“Are you alright, Master Dick?” The ten year old nodded, making grabby hands towards Bruce’s scarily still body. His face seemed to show the panic he was in because Alfred made a hesitant face at it silent request. “Your fever hasn’t broken Master Dick, you’re still on medication.” He insisted, as if he was sure he wasn’t as concerned as he was since he was kinda loopy. 

Dick pointed more stubbornly and Alfred raised an eyebrow but went to the IV connected to the boy’s wrist and pulled it around the bed, then he took him in his frail arms and towards Bruce. The butler gingerly sat him down next to Bruce , Dick wasted no time checking his pulse which was still going. Alfred took his hand and set it on the Caped Crusader’s chest, Dick didn’t deem it a good enough analysis and instead set his ear on his chest, feeling it go up and down along with the peaceful beats of Bruce’s heart. 

Dick sighs in relief which Alfred softly smiles at. “Come, we must give you your water.” Dick shook his head, he didn’t want to leave Bruce. “Alright then.” 

The picture of Dick fallen asleep on Bruce’s chest with the eldest’s arm around the small child still lay in the bone upon boxes of Dick Grayson in the back of Buce Wayne’s office, many years -and and children- later. And after every bad argument with his first son Bruce Wayne looks at it and smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dick & Bruce special cause I can’t bully Bruce all the time


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No. 30 NOW WHERE DID THAT COME FROM?  
> Wound Reveal│Ignoring An Injury│Internal Organ Injury

Damian Al Ghul Wayne had been taught many things, however what he considers the most essential skill is to never show weakness, no matter how much pain one is in. 

Ever since he was a child, time and time again if he showed any semblance of vulnerability he was punished, as he should. If not he would never inherit the al Ghul throne, his birthright. So he never did, he sharpened every blade he owned to make others scream and when it would be used on him it wouldn’t make him bat an eye, he honed every skill, took every lesson more seriously than the last. He was a weapon, he needed to be perfect, weapons were not flawed therefore he shan’t be flawed, a true al Ghul.

That was until Richard Grayson wriggled his way into his life.

He was supposed to be trained by father, learn the ways of the Batman however he didn’t see what he could learn from somebody who hasn’t dared shed blood. Then his father ‘died’ and he was stuck with sloppy seconds. He was promised The Bruce Wayne, Batman and one of the most powerful men on Earth -besides grandfather- and he got manchild Richard John Grayson, Nightwing and not one of the most powerful men on Earth.

He thought all of his progress was lost and he would be returned to the league until Grayson offered to teach him in father’s place. He didn’t think him a worthy mentor nor did Damian think he thought him a worthy student until he pushed Drake -his enemy- out of the Robin mantle for him to donn the uniform. Finally, he was getting closer to earning the black cowl. 

Surprisingly, Grayson didn’t end up being an incompetent teacher and he soaked up all of the knowledge the man offered. The affection and no killing however, he was more resistant to adapting, slowly but surely the hugs -cursed things- became something he secretly looked forward to. The ruffling of hair was something he often sought after and the adoration, the honey coating his words and the praise, he preened at it and he could tell Grayson was content with his progress.

That was until one training session.

“Okay, let’s set the rules. We train here, if you are in pain you tap the ground twice which signifies that I will back away and disengage from the fight and vice versa.” Grayson offered, the man was clad in black sweatpants, shirtless and lightly sheeting with sweat from performing some version of acrobatics his biological parents had taught him. Damian nodded, inwardly excited to kick the first Robin to the ground with his skills.

“Three.”

“Two.”

“One.”

Damian attempted to sweep his opponents legs underneath him whom backed away from the limb, they circled each other, the smaller of the two tried to punch him in the stomach but he blocked. The al Ghul leapt at Grayson who caught him and threw him over his shoulder, he landed on his shoulder which throbbed but he ignored it, rolling and latching onto the first Robin’s legs, aiming to lock his legs and bring him to the floor. The elder danced out of the move, instead moving away and waiting for him to get up.

The ten year old got to his feet and narrowed his eyes, seeing Grayson was favoring one leg to another, he aimed for the weaker one but Richard evaded the attack, instead striking the shoulder that had been pulsing in pain. He hissed lightly and made an effort to retaliate only for his wrist to be grabbed and be pinned to the floor. “Good match.” Grayson congratulated, getting off of him and smiling at him. “Wanna go another round?”

Damian was about to nod but clenched his jaw when the muscles that met his neck stretched and made his shoulder feel like it was on fire. Grayson immediately became concerned. “You okay? Did I hurt your shoulder?” He asked, Damian, for fear of being punished shook his head. “Lil’ D, don’t lie to me, let’s go get it fixed up.” 

“I apologize, Grayson.”

“Why would you be sorry? You got hurt because of me. Hell, I’m sorry Dames.” 

“No, it’s sufficient punishment for my weakness.” Damian explained, knowing that it is out of place, he goes to set it back only for Grayson to catch his hand in a gentle grip. “Here, let me.” He insisted, nodding and then setting it quickly, drawing a sharp breath from the younger. 

“Are you okay? I’ll get Alfie to get some ice.” The new Batman asserted, Damian shook his head, he didn’t need to nurse such a pathetic wound. Grayson seemed to sigh at his command but relented. “Now, what do you mean about punishment?” 

“In the league if you were to present vulnerability you were to be punished.” Damian explained. “It must be a perpetual rule here, correct?” Grayson seemed to be horrified at the thought. “No, we don’t punish people for getting hurt or showing that they’re hurt. Even if you were to do anything to warrant a punishment it would be something like cleaning the cave or help Alfred with the laundry or something.” 

Damian hummed, why such diverse ways of teaching? It is effective to punish with pain to be reassured it shan’t happen again. It isn’t this way in the league. “Damian, don’t you ever hide any injuries just to put up a front.” Grayson ordered, the biological Wayne was conflicted. 

“Isn’t that what I am supposed to do?”

“No, I can’t be out there without knowing if you’re hurt because then I don’t know what would be good to do, I can’t do the equation without all the variables Dames.”

The child contemplated this, is he willing to refute his childhood training just to be Robin? He looks up at Richard Grayson’s azure eyes that shone with concern, concern for him. He nods, not to please Grayson or remove the sad glint in his gaze but to get to the cowl. Yes, it’s only to get to the cowl.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No. 17 I DID NOT SEE THAT COMING  
> Blackmail│Dirty Secret│Wrongfully Accused

Dick Grayson had many dirty secrets, the only reason they've never been air is because he was usually the only one who knew what happened or by the off chance that someone had been there to experience it they were either dead or hated him.

However, by far the best kept one was what happened with Tarantula.

"I still remember the smell of your perfume"

He ran a hand over the bumps and creases of the concrete plaque that held all of the horrors of Bludhaven in one painful package. The crater where his city once belonged was huge and gaping, the depth of the cavity sent his body into a flurry of emotions he had forgotten he could feel. 

He should have gotten help for what happened, or at least that's what he had read that people should be saying. Due to his past experience, he'll skip the yelling and being called a whore, besides, he deserved it.

Dick sighed, sitting on the edge of the massive pit that seemed to yell louder than any person ever could. His hoodie protected him from the cold that bit at his minimal exposed skin and he knew it was a colossal risk to be close to a place so radioactive but he couldn't find it in him to care. He narrowed his eyes at the long drop to the bottom, one wrong move and he could plummet to his death.

"It hasn't left me since the day you made me blue"

Y'know, Dick used to have a fear of falling, of going out the same way as his parents and while it wouldn't be the most grandiose or extravagant way to perish, he didn't cower at the thought as he would have before. He's learned he needs to fall to fly but what if he doesn't want to spread his wings let them flutter him to safety? Maybe he just wants to stay a stain on the pavement, his blood paining the asphalt a morose crimson.

Would anyone care? God, he hoped so. Even if somebody did, he doesn't think he would spill out all of his secrets on a eulogy, a will or even a letter, it didn't seem worth going through all of the effort, nor did it seem convenient to burden his family with the guilt of not having an idea of what went on in his life, that they didn't know Dick Grayson as much as they would have wanted to. 

Many people used to know Richard John Grayson - he was considered Gotham's prince for hell's sake - but barely anybody knew Dick Grayson.

Wally used to, he's gone, Starfire used to, she hates him now, Raven used to, they don't talk anymore, Zatanna used to, they've gone their separate ways, between many others.

"I think I saw you but I know I'm not supposed to"

Barbara used to know him, know they can't even look each other in the eye.

He was a locked box, though not many knew it, he killed the Joker but he won't ever tell Jason, he's too ashamed even if he knew it would be euphoric for his immediate brother. He kicked Tim out of the Robin mantle. He let Damian die in front of him. He failed Bruce more times than he could count- He has so many fucking regrets that he keeps them all close to his chest, he doesn't think he could bare the thought of them getting out. 

Dick, as good looking as he is -yes, he can admit that to himself, even if its caused more problems than solutions- doesn't lie to look himself in the mirror. He used to love it when he was younger, finding ways to look better, only seeing a small child with a bright future. Now, all he sees is the death and destruction that he's reaped the benefits of, a broken man in a broken life and sometimes he can't even tell the difference between Bruce and his reflection.

He's cursed.

He's poison.

He looks back down to the pit that once made up Bludhaven. 

"I must be dreaming 'cause I don't believe in ghosts."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyrics in the chapter are from Ghosts by Jacob Tillberg, not long but still a nice introspection chapter.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No. 24. YOU'RE NOT MAKING ANY SENSE  
> Forced Mutism│Blindfolded│Sensory Deprivation
> 
> I haven't played with AUs during this entire challenge so lets see what I come up with for this.
> 
> Talon!Dick AU

Dick grunted in effort as he concentrated on the targets in the batcave, it had been a grueling week, mostly comprised of letting their ragtag family adjust to the addition of a youngest hatchling in the nest. While it had thrown most of his adoptive kin out of kilter he regarded the young one with respect and dignity. 

The progeny had taken this recognition in stride but it had seemed it didn't earn the hatchling's trust. They both danced around each other, pure born and bred executioners, having been born from a line of assassins. It was clear that Bruce thought they would play nice to each other due to their similar past. 

However, he did not take into account how -like Robins- they were territorial. Talon performed a swift kick to the side of the mannequin then struck it in the shoulder. He divulged into his thoughts anew, letting the guilt of his preceding history wash over him like a wave. Every receding memory melted into his present, it fueled his fists to go harsher and faster and harder. 

The hatchling padded down the stairs, clad in formal training clothing, the same that he had arrived in. He was silent, not offering any conversation nor commenting on the crude handling of the mannequin. Instead, dropped a bag near the closest bench, then he shuffled to the middle of the training area and unseathed his katanas, the blades shining in the dim lighting of the cave. The young one began warming up with basic katas, swiftly progressing to more complex ones. 

Dick and the baby bird worked silently, a mutual respect flowing through them that prioritized honing their skills than the need to neutralize what their bodies and minds insisted was a threat. Finally, the nursling with slightly deeper breathing had seemingly deemed temporary rest was in order, he seathed his words with the ease of a professional and marched to the bench and dug into his bag, taking out a water bottle and a towel to dry his hair. 

Dick considers taking a small hiatus only to travel to a small fridge in the corner where he pulled out a water bottle and took a crisp towel from one of the shelves. He wiped his neck and arms down before slinging it over his shoulder, then he unscrewed the cap and took a gulp of H2O, realizing just then how thirsty he had been. He felt the hatchling's glare on his back, though not tinted with much intent save for diligence. 

He turned to the baby bird, signing if the small bird needed anything. The nursling didn't speak like most do to reply to his silence, instead shook his head. Dick stepped towards him, instead of heading to the mannequin he sat down on the other side of the bench, plenty far from the other assassin. 

"You are the first Robin, are you not?" The hatchling broke the silence, fingering his dagger he had pulled from his boot. It didn't give the impression of a nervous habit, instead he just seemed to crave something to touch.

Dick could not fill the silence with his own sound so instead he nodded. "I have been informed you are not to speak, for the privilege had been seized without your consent." He nodded for a second time, having come to terms with his 'disability' a long time ago. "I cannot help but wonder, if they took the ability of speech from you why you never sought to reap vengeance."

He was hesitant to sign, not having the knowledge if the hatchling could speak the language but still did it anyhow. The baby bird followed each notion with a hint of familiarity but did not move to stop the flurry of movement. He pointed at himself 'I' then pressed his index and middle fingers together and in unison brought them down on his thumb. 'no' finally, he used his right hand to only raise his index finger and the other held flat in which he slid the right one to go down. 'kill'.

The nursling seemed to contemplate this only to ask. "Why? After all of the time they maltreated you, why spare them?" The hatchling seemed genuinely conflicted, Dick presumed this was an indirect consultation for how he should perceive his time with his family, all of which had been yelled at time and time again that it was for his own betterment only to then be hurtled in an environment where the opposite is insisted. Dick knew how that felt.

Dick pointed at himself again. 'I kill' He pauses then he curls everything but his thumb and pinky to gingerly slam onto his other palm 'that' He formed two fists and tapped them together, turning them slightly out 'no' He pressed his index and middle fingers together and in unison brought them down on his thumb 'bring' He lets his two hands go flat and one above and infront of the other and moves them in a vague moving gesture. 'voice' He puts up his index and middle finger in a bunny ears way and moves it up his throat until it slides off and is held in front of him. 'back' He signs the individual letters. 

Dick turns to him but doesn't make a move towards the hatchling, aware that he would not be appreciative of it -if not for the greeting in which they had initially clashed. He tries to make the next signs as directed towards him as it could get. 'Abuse' He formed a fist and moved it back and forth above his raised index finger. 'not' He formed a fist with only his thumb out and pulled it off of his chin with a shake of his head. 'your' He used a flat palm and thrust it gingerly but sternly forward, as if pushing something. 'fault.' He used the same flat palm to dig the tips of his fingers on his breast and aim up only to direct his wrist down. 

The hatchling does not reply verbally but his eyes say everything needed to be expressed. He didn't ask to become an assassin or be subjected to the persecution of his captors. He was just a small bird who had his wings damaged before he could soar. While Dick was still many eons after recovering from his own misdoings, he was not to disregard this hatchling. 

The baby bird didn't return to his katas nor did he pluck the bag to carry back with him as he left with as silent of footsteps as he came in. Dick stands up and goes over to the batcomputer. He doesn't turn to look back at Alfred whom emerged from the shadows expertly. "Its going to take a mighty while for him to heal, wouldn't you say, Master Dick?"

Dick looked back at where the hatchling had disappeared, there's many things that he could sign. He doesn't reply to the question. Alfred seems to respect this and instead leads with another question. "May I ask when Master Damian shall be referred to as his name." 

Dick smirked. Despite knowing that Alfred is fluent in sign language, he still typed. 'I think this one is staying a hatchling.' Despite acknowledging that the little bird would one day inevitably grow into an adult, he has a feeling this one will be different.

Out of everything he's feeling, he can say that he's excited to see how this'll turn out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its not much angst but I kind of like how it turned out anyway.   
> Backstory for Alfred asking about how long it will take for Dick to call Damian by his name and not hatchling -cause for the life of me i could not find a good way to integrate that smoothly into the story-  
> Dick, since he was a talon and rescued by Bruce and after Jason became Robin he from that point on called every new sibling a hatchling until he felt that they had crossed the line of maturity or that they surpassed or came to terms with something that he deemed was a big struggle for them. For Jason, it would have been when he came back as Red Hood, for Tim it would have been just around this time just before Bruce disappears since Dick considers him an equal by the time he becomes Batman, etc.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No. 25 I THINK I'LL JUST COLLAPSE RIGHT HERE, THANKS  
> Disorientation│Blurred Vision│Ringing Ears
> 
> Another Talon!Dick AU cause my brain has no other ideas and I'm kind of burnt out lol

Robin narrowed his eyes at the doors before him and Nightwing, clutching at his stomach tightly to stifle the blood flow that poured out of his wound. Nightwing ran forwards, trying to pull open the exit with his impeccable strength, his injuries healing and fading like magic, though some crimson from his body still kept dripping to the floor. 

The elder sighs sharply, the gate not budging despite the force he exerted upon it. Instead of dwelling on the nuisance, he turned to him. Robin panted, wincing lightly at the pain growing in his abdominal area now that the adrenaline was starting to fade, pressing his back against the wall and sliding down. Nightwing perks up, seemingly alert, he equips his escrima sticks and goes back to scope out the area, he points at Robin and then the floor. The silent 'stay put' was welcome for once. 

Noises come from the area his mentor disappeared, Robin grits his teeth, trying to migrate to a hiding spot. His breathing deepened and he felt blood spurt out of his long cut which caused his eyes to blur. He hears something come in the room and he turns, seeing a guard, aiming with a .44 magnum. The vigilante tries to get up on wobbly knees to take him down, pushing down the worry that they neutralized Nightwing. 

The flashlight strapped on the top of the gun was trained on him, "I got Robin." He spoke into his walkie talkie only to seemingly get no response. "Hold still you little brat." The guard retorted, adjusting his grip on the firearm, Robin held his breath.

The gun fell to the floor with a loud clack, the flashlight was kicked and it brought the .44 magnum with it to spin and aim directly at the fight. Nightwing ruthlessly held the man in a choking grip while he clawed at the vigilante's arms, a dark look in his eyes. It didn't take long for the guard to go limp but Nightwing didn't stop strangling him. "Nightwing, stop!" Robin called out.

Nightwing didn't seem to listen and kept on going, narrowing his eyes at his victim. "Baba!" Damian yelled, Dick snapped out of it. His eyes widened at his actions and let the man crumple to the ground, rushing over to his little brother. "Go, check on his pulse." Robin insisted, the elder ignored the order. He pointed at Robin then held out both hands vertically, one still while the other created a small circle before floating above the first one. 'Priority.'

That somehow made Damian feel a little better.

Nightwing assessed the damage, glaring at the infernal stomach injury that oozed crimson. The vigilante made a cradling motion. 'Baby.' He raised on of his hands and pinched twice. 'Bird.' He sticks out both index fingers away and twists them at an angle. 'Hurt.' 

"I know, our beacons are on-" Nightwing covers his mouth with his hand. 'Baby bird.' He holds up two fingers on each hand vertically, the left one forming a v shape and tapping on the right one twice. 'save.' He makes a flat his and places it on his shoulder, hiding the fingers before turning his wrist making his hand show the side of the fist and landing on the crook of the elbow. 'Energy.' 

Robin follows the request, knowing that Nightwing was too stubborn to argue with when he's injured. He almost protested at the nickname like usual but feels the blood loss ebbing away at him which makes him refrain from doing so. The vigilante starts looking around for material, hesitating as he seemingly spies Robin's cape. The elder shifts him and starts ripping away at the material to create long strips which he cinches around his abdominal area and back to create pressure. As time went by the harder it was for Robin to concentrate. 

By the time the wrapping up was finished the younger could barely keep his eyes open, his vision blurry. He saw the mass of black and blue that was his mentor move out of his field of vision and he just wonders if he could just take a small nap- A cold sensation washed over him and blue is again directly in his field of limited vision. How long did he black out for? 

A jingling sound came as he was plucked off of the concrete floor into Nightwing's safe arms. At first he was being princess carried then shifted into a cradling position but it seems that his brother determined it to be unsafe since he wouldn't be able to defend them both if they came across any danger. 

Robin felt his body be gingerly moved to have his arms around his brother's neck -albeit weakly- and his legs dangle. The arm was pressed behind his back and underneath his legs, holding him against Dick's chest firmly.

With the warm, comforting presence of his baba and the pain in his body he let his eyes slip shut -though something was screaming at him not to- and relax in his baba's hold. Finally, darkness washed over him and he fell asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I'm late but I decided to join a bit back but school has been a pain so deal with it.


End file.
